Echoes (V) Kaleidosopic
by Soo W
Summary: Anna decides to meet Liam, not knowing he is now Angelus. Their encounter is watched closely, and has some dangerous and lasting effects.
1. Default Chapter

Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 1/3

Disclaimer: These characters belong to WB/Joss/Fox etc etc, but certainly not to me. I'm only writing this for fun and therapy. And because there are NEVER, ever, enough flashbacks.

Pairing: Angelus/Anna

Spoilers: Based loosely on events in Becoming and The Prodigal

Short Summary: Anna decides to meet Liam, not knowing he is now Angelus. Their encounter is watched closely, and has some dangerous and lasting effects.

Feedback: Yes please... The address is soofic@hotmail.com - I'd love to hear from you if you're reading and always reply to feedback!

Comments: Follows on from "Echoes (IV) - The Wheel's Kick". Fifth and last in the "Echoes" series. The "Echoes" series is a sequel to Pen Pictures, and the whole lot starts from the premise that Liam was having an affair with Anna (the servant who appears in a flashback in AtS) before he was turned. [ There are five in this series altogether: "Caught Red-Handed" from Liam's POV, "Still Life" from Darla's POV, "Chosen" from Anna's POV, "The Wheel's Kick" from Angelus' POV and "Kaleidoscopic" from everyone's POV. ]

Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 1/3 

"Joe, I'm sorry. I have to see him."

"I'll walk with you as far as the bridge."

"There's no need."

"I'll not detain you."

"Joe, please..."

"Would you... would you... go somewhere with him?" 

"No!"

"If he asked you?"

"I... I don't know."

"I'll come as far as the bridge. I just want to lay my eyes on him once. If there's no danger... I'll leave you."

"Very well..."

The moon reflects on the water, an alabaster disc, fragmented. All around me the silks and satins of the well-to-do glisten and shimmer, and torches glow and reflect from the mosaics of shop windows. 

As I step onto the bridge (a ridiculous structure, seemingly too crammed with stuff to stay upright) a strange unreality descends on me. My eyes won't focus; my whole world is dazzling and glistering. Perhaps the bridge has finally come to the knowledge that it is too heavy for its supporting limbs and we have slipped under the water, without anyone noticing. 

He's standing near the middle of the bridge. I see him and like the view through a kaleidoscope as it's twisted, the myriad colours of the world shift, realign, and suddenly, he is the dominant pattern. Everything seems to be a repetition of some part of him.

Do I sleep or wake?

(My sweet Liam, I've missed you so.)

(Anna... you're quite beautiful tonight.)

(I just came to see how you were.)

(I understand. I have no right to ask anything of you.)

(How is Kathy? Did she finish her story?)

(Don't let's talk about the family. We... don't have much time.)

(As you wish...)

Due to the stupid struggling of the gin-soaked slut I picked up in Lincoln's Inn, I'm sure I've arrived too late; that the deed is already done. But then I see them, two motionless figures amid the bustle and noise. I'm curious as to why they're so still.

They're talking without words. She is clearly under his spell, and why not? He is powerful enough for that, already. A pleasant thrill reverberates through me as I recognise the symptoms: the vacancy of her eyes, her slightly opened mouth, her limbs full of lead and her heart pounding. Clever, clever boy.

She's already forgotten that leaving is a possibility.

(Are you well?)

(Nothing ails me.)

(Good.)

(Except not having you.)

(Liam, I don't think it can be. It's not right.)

(I want you.)

(Liam, please. Let's be... be calm. Careful.)

(I've been careful - done what you asked - for over a year. And still every part of me aches to touch you.)

(Touch me, then.)

He seems lost for words. His gaze moves over me, taking me in from head to toe. My blood rises; then he makes an impatient noise and pulls me onto him, pausing for a second before covering my lips with his. Fingers are in my hair, pulling, and my head falls back. 

That kiss... how many nights have I longed for it? And if I could kiss, why not slip my fingers inside his coat, open my lips under the insistence of his and rub myself against his body. I'm thirsty for the friction of his hands on my skin. Joe - I'm sorry - I can't help it - I loved him first.

(More, sweetheart of mine. My Liam.)

(Why didn't you come before? I've waited three nights.)

(It isn't seemly. I wasn't sure.)

(No, but...)

(You are right, love. I should have been here.)

I look around and can see no-one watching us, so I half-push, half-throw her into a nearby doorway. The recess is deep and she's cast into shade. She stands, unresisting, watching me with wide-open eyes as I walk towards her slowly.

I unwrap the scarf from her throat and drop it to the ground. The white skin of her throat is blotched with red and she shivers uncontrollably. 

(More. I'm thirsty.)

(You won't refuse me?)

(I won't.)

He reaches me and places his hands on my shoulders, then lets them flow down my back and fall to my rear. He grabs my flesh there through my dress, and lifts me onto the slight sill of the window, pinning me there with his weight. 

I feel him; sense how hard he is for me, and somehow know that this is it, that the final "no" will not be uttered, and if by some miracle I managed to force it past my lips it would not be heard. His eyes flash amber, and I close mine in order to hide my desire, so unexpected, from him and the world. I want to be taken, used roughly, right there, like the common whores I so despise.

(Liam... please... please...)

(You want me?)

(Oh, yes.)

I grind myself into her, and try to lose my hunger in the physical sensation. Then I open my eyes and see her head thrown back and hear her soft gasps; she's incoherently begging me to take her; it's a fantasy, culled straight from my human dreams.

But it's secondary to me now. I want her, but next to the sound of the blood rushing under her skin... My mouth is wet. The sound, and the throb where we touch, makes me salivate. I force myself to ignore it and take my time with her; I'd... he'd waited so long.

(Liam, the people...)

(Ignore them...)

(They're watching.)

(They don't see us.)

(If we're caught... it's a public flogging.)

(We won't be caught.)

(Quickly then...) 

He's grabbing my skirts, gathering them up to my waist and pinning them there with his body. I help him; I hold myself up by means of my arms around his neck. I feel the ribbon from his hair coming loose and cool air on my thighs as he fumbles with his clothing and nuzzles my throat. 

Then a pain, sharp and hot, the slice of a heated blade between my legs and at my neck. 

(It hurts.)

(I know. Forgive me.)

My eyes open in shock and the last thing I see is a white face, surrounded by perfect, teased curls, and a satisfied smile. 

Then I hear my own breath, roaring in my ears. And see nothing.

(Liam, I'll fall. Don't let me go. )

(Never.)

(Am I awake?)

(You're with me.)


	2. Chapter 2

Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 2/3 Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 2/3 

My darling boy. I knew - I knew from the moment I first saw him. That darkness - it's a mistake to think that you make a person evil simply by making them a vampire. Instant creation of true evil is not possible, not that easy. I know - I've tried.

Nature has to give you some help. I removed the light, but the darkness? That was already there. 

She sags in his grasp, and I know it's all over. I make my way through the crowds. The boy has done well and deserves some privacy in his moment of triumph.

(It hurts.)

(Don't fight me. I'll take the hurt away, I promise.)

I came almost as I entered her; the restriction, the heat and the throbbing of her heart were so real. So unlike Darla. The spasm was brief, but it echoes; it rebounds and reflects within me as I drink from her throat; it won't go away.

She slips into unconsciousness. I know I've won; she didn't refuse me in the end; but equally I realise it's not enough. I drag my mouth from her neck, where the sweet blood is pumping, and kiss her lips once more. I savour the moment: this forbidden thing, this decision. I have to decide what to do with her.

She's still breathing. There's still time. He... I... we could have this forever.

(Anna, will you stay with me?)

(What about her?)

(She's nothing.)

(She's here.)

(No.)

(They're both here. We're not alone.) 

A force buffets me from one side, and my head feels like it's come off. Then something hauls me up and throws me through the bulge of the merchant's window. I land on a pile of rolled silks, tumble onto the floor, and look up groggily to see what hit me.

"What's your name?"

A diminutive woman dressed in men's clothing stands above me. I reach out to grab her ankle and she stamps her booted foot on my wrist, crushing the bone. I writhe under the pain.

"Don't tell me then. I saw Darla on the bridge. Are you with her?"

Dread, dark and budding, inside me. "I know who you are."

She kicks my broken arm from beneath her right foot and traps my knee under her left, grinding the bone against the floor. "Good. You've gone to a lot of trouble to bring Anna here. Why?"

I spit at her, "Childhood sweethearts."

"I see. A test. Proving yourself worthy, are you?"

I say nothing, but make a determined lunge at her legs. She lands a kick on my chin and my head flies back and hits the floor. When I open my eyes again, she's crouched over me, pinning my arms to the floorboards.

"You won't get Anna. She's under our protection now."

I manage a laugh. "You're chasing Darla. She told me. What's Anna to you? Nothing but good vampire bait."

She doesn't answer that, but continues, "I'd tell Darla you did it, if I were you. She doesn't take failure well. She kills her own, if they fall short of the mark." She bends to whisper in my ear, "She's known for it. One day, you'll wake up and find your bed has been moved into the sunrise."

I watch as she tears a quantity of scarlet satin from one of the rolls, and jumps back through the shattered window. A crowd is amassing outside. She stoops, out of my vision, in the doorway, and when she stands, she's holding Anna, wrapped in a red silk blanket, as if she weighed nothing. They disappear into the crowd.

(Anna, stay with me. Don't ever let me go.)

(I never will.)

"I should have killed him."

"And then Darla would have come after her for revenge, and she would be in worse danger. You did right. You were clever, as you always are."

"She's waking. ssssh."

"It hurts."

"I know. It will stop. Soon, I promise."

"Joe, more laudanum?"

"No, I don't think it would help."

"Who's that?"

"A friend. My watcher. You remember - I told you about him? You're going to like him, I promise."

"He looks after you. I like him already."

An hour has gone by since I left the bridge. Where is he? He should have come straight home. That boy, he hasn't got an obedient bone in his body. I'm pacing these apartments, worrying, when he should be here, with me, sharing the victory. I should be the first to see the finished article.

Jet black. Shiny and empty and whole.

Instead, he's out there taking in a few more prostitutes, I dare say. He'll roll in just before sunrise coated in fog and reeking of mercury. The price of a woman in this town will have doubled by the time we leave. 

Paris I think, then St Petersburg, then on to Prussia. I have a craving for noble blood warmed in animal furs.

(Liam, the people...)

(Ignore them...)

(They're watching.)

I open my eyes and focus on Joe. Behind her stands a slightly plump, prosperous-looking but soberly dressed man. He has grey hair and a worried frown. 

"Oh God. Oh God."

"She remembers, Sir. Leave us alone?"

The grey man nods and leaves the room. I notice the room for the first time, a study, lined with books. A large fireplace with a roaring fire. It's good that there's so much to look at; I can't look at her any more.

"Joe. How can you... I... with him... right there."

"I know. I know what happened. Don't cry."

She kisses my hand and holds it in her lap.

"She was there. Watching us. Oh God, how could I be so wanton? He's with her."

"Yes. I believe he is."

"Molly told me how it was between them. I should have known."

"Hush... it's all over now. He won't be coming back."

"How can you bear to look at me? After what I did?"

She smiles. "Because you're still the same person I loved yesterday." She kisses the back of my hand again. "A little battered around the edges. But you're safe now."

"I can still hear him."

"It'll stop. Soon. He'll go back to her. He'll have to stop, then."

"You don't think I've gone mad?"

"I think he might. Not you. Rest now. Try to sleep."

(Are you well?)

(It hurts, Anna. She hurt me.)

(I know. Forgive me.)

Under the bridge, the river laps at my feet, putrid and oily. My knee is painful but usable, and the bones in my wrist have made an acquaintance with each other again. I'll be able to move my hand soon.

I concentrate with all my faculties and imagine her blood slipping down my throat, the flood waning to a trickle and finally a hard-won sip, barely enough to coat my tongue. I step back, and she slips from her perch and lies, curled at my feet in the doorway, used, broken, lifeless, and I leave her there and saunter home. Without a backward glance.

If I can see it clearly enough, it happened. Darla will think it happened.

(I have to go back. To her.)

(I know.)

(I can't be caught. She'll... I don't know what she'll do to me.)

(Quickly then... I loved you. Don't forget.) 

(I won't. Goodbye, Anna.) 

What really happened - with her - I can't ever think of it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 3/3 Echoes (V) Kaleidoscopic 3/3

Epilogue

Darla paces the hard marble floor of the mansion and looks again at the clock. 

Six o'clock. Dawn would be coming in minutes, and Angelus was still abroad.

The days when he was afraid of her are long gone. He has rapidly gathered strength and cunning, and is her equal, or perhaps the more dangerous of the two, since he seems to have a skill for cruelty that she never taught him, and a naturally reckless nature where she is all caution.

There are sounds, and she hastens towards them. Through the hall, opening doors and running through corridors that get narrower, her silk-slippered feet pound the floors until the marble gives way to wood, and she finds herself deep in the servant's part of the house.

He is in the kitchen. Through a half-opened door, she sees him throw his coat and hat on the table. He has company; he's conversing lowly with a girl who stands shyly a few feet away.

She has long, wild, auburn hair and speaks English with a pronounced Irish lilt.

"I don't understand, Sir. That's all you want me to do?"

"That's all."

"You're sure now? Because if there's any more it'll be extra."

"I understand. We'll settle up when we're finished."

"Angelus!"

He doesn't answer her so she enters the room and comes to stand between him and the girl.

"Another one?"

He smiles and bends his neck so he can see past her to the wench.

Darla tuts in exasperation. "You cut it too fine, Angelus. It's almost light. Why do you risk your pretty skin like this?"

The girl pipes up. "If she's going to stay, it'll cost you more."

Ignoring her, Darla raises an eyebrow at Angelus. "I thought you were going to try gypsies for a change. There's a camp of very handsome-looking Romanies just outside the town." She reaches over to straighten his collar affectionately. "I could fetch you one later."

"Listen," the girl is getting nervous, "I don't work with the Romanies. They aren't god-fearing people. And more people is extra. That price was for the gentleman."

"Don't worry, sweet. It'll be just the two of us. Darla is leaving."

She flashes him an angry look as he mentions her name. "This is a sickness, Angelus. The third this week. I don't mind you having certain tastes, we all do. But you pass up perfectly decent meals in your search for them. Then bring them here, which puts us both in danger. Why can't you do it in the streets like everyone else? Why do you have to play these sick games? If I didn't know better..."

He smiles at her throughout this tirade, and her voice peters out. She can't fathom him. It's been some months since he became closed to her; he is his own little world now, and she can't penetrate the fog that surrounds him. What is worse, he realises her impotence in the matter. He no longer bothers to hide the evidence, and she regularly comes across them, always dressed as servant girls, always the hair, always in similar poses, always bitten in the same way.

She marches out, flinging "Don't make a mess!" over her shoulder as a parting shot.

Later, after he has come to bed and is sleeping soundly, she makes herself go into the scullery and look. The girl is draped over a washing tub. Her hair floats in the soapy water and a slick of blood is spreading from her throat.


End file.
